Wolfsbane and Chocolate
by JadedSeventhYear
Summary: Severus has been experiencing panic attacks of late. Combined with his exhaustion, and the pressures of having a werewolf in the castle, he makes a mistake that could be dire for them both. Cannon, 3rd Year, Sick!Severus, Sick!Remus, Hurt/Comfort, T (though could probably be K ). Updated every Thurs/Fri! Chapter 6 is up! Sorry for the delay! Let's break 2k reads!
1. Chapter One: The Eleventh Nettle

_A/N: This is the first full-length fanfiction I've written. I tried to stay a bit true to their characters, but I think you'll see that there are not your average, day-to-day Severus and Remus. This story is set in Harry's 3rd year and is meant to fit into the cannon as part of what goes on in Hogwarts that we don't see, as the narrative of the stories follows Harry._

_Cheers, and expect chapter two next week._

* * *

**Chapter One: Eleventh Nettle**

Professor Snape was having a much more terrible day than usual. His pale face was even more pallid, and his expression was more cold than previous "bad days" - enough to send first years, even his Slytherins, scurrying away in a panic. Sweeping into the Potions classroom, he sent the door flying open on its hinges with a swipe of hand. The banging made several Hufflepuffs jump.

Ah, his second year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw mix. If it weren't for the generous and, admittedly, genius Ravenclaws passing notes or whispering instructions to the dimwitted Hufflepuffs, he was certain half of Hogwarts' dungeons would have long since been destroyed by the lot of them.

_Dunderheads_, he thought, settling into the rigid chair behind his desk. He shot them all a glare, his jaw set and an expression of disdain on his face. With another wave of his hand, directions for a moderate pain-relieving potion appeared on the board.

"You'll all brew this potion - _exactly _to the instructions - and leave a vial of the completed product on the table." He gestured to the empty table with a vial rack big enough for all the students' samples. His voice was strained and he massaged the bridge of his nose. He heard the small sound of a Hufflepuff opening their pestering little mouth to inquire as to his health and he cut the little dolt short before they even had the chance. "Before you open your mouths and distract yourselves, I remind you that my health is none of your concern. What _is_, however, of your concern, is how disappointed I will be when you hand in the drivel you all dare call a 'potion'."

At the end of the class, after the last Hufflepuff had turned in their vial and scurried away with a worried glance at his Professor, Severus let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It wasn't his usual sigh of relief or contempt. It was ragged, pained and short. Severus gritted his teeth as he pushed himself up from his chair, where he had remained throughout the class, barely moving except to deduct points from the occasional would-be pyrotechnician.

It wasn't pain that kept him rooted to his place - pain he could handle. No, the entire class he'd been fighting something that had only recently started to plague him.

Panic.

Barely able to contain himself, he had kept a panic attack at bay for the last bit of the class, only just managing to keep himself still, gripping the edge of his chair and forcing himself to breathe normally.

But now that the room was empty, the full force of it hit him. He felt his chest clench as he stood and he grabbed his desk fast, holding on as tightly as he could as he felt the ground slide around beneath him.

_Oh, god... _His breath came in torn, ragged gasps as his vision swam. _Oh, god, I'm going die..._ He sank to the floor, still grasping at the edge of his desk in a struggle to stay upright. Every part of him screamed to flee the dungeons, to get out from the dark and get somewhere bright, warm and safe. But he fought it - it wasn't true, it was only all just in his head.

And while he told himself that, his mind reeled over everything bad that had ever or would ever happen to him. Voldemort, a ridiculous set of half-lives, torture sessions barely disguised as Death Eater rallies; Black, all the memories that would bring, not to mention the fact that the man who betrayed Lily would undoubtedly attempt the life of her son, whom he was sworn to protect; add to all this a werewolf - _the_ werewolf who'd tried to kill him as as child - was back in the castle and it was up to him to brew a complex Wolfsbane to stop him from killing or infecting anyone.

_Pressure_... His chest felt like someone was tightening a belt around it. _So much pressure..._

Severus stayed there, crumpled on the floor, one hand gripping at the edge of his desk in a failing bid to stay upright, the other clutching at his chest as though he could wrench breath out of it. He shook as he forced himself to draw a breath - it was shaky, laboured and it hurt his throat to even try.

After twenty minutes, he felt the floor stop pitching back and forth beneath him and his breath returned to normal.

_Oh, thank Merlin... _Severus sat back, leaning his back against the desk, sweat making his hair cling to his face, his breathing finally back to normal - if a little shallow. _Oh, thank Merlin it's over. _

It took him a few minutes to work up the strength to stand, but a glance at the calendar on his classroom wall - erected to scare students with how closely exams loomed - made Severus groan and force himself up faster, through his weakened legs and the persistent feeling of dizziness and nausea.

He had two weeks before the next full moon.

Wolfsbane took a week to brew, and had to be taken for a solid week before the full moon to ensure its protection held fast.

He hadn't the time to rest, even if he desperately needed it.

* * *

"Powdered Cat's Horn, two turns clockwise..." Severus muttered under his breath, adding the ingredient to the thick, bubbling mixture in his cauldron. His materials had all been laid out, his ladles and vials all neatly lined up.

He was in the final day of brewing, in the last steps. While the potion was complex, he had brewed it enough for it to have become habit. He didn't have to keep so concentrated around it.

That would have been a good thing, but at the moment, it was terrible.

"Two toad's eyes, three hairs of a dire wolf, eight turns counterclockwise."

_Oh, no... Not again..._

Severus stilled as he felt the chill run up his spine. _No. NO! _He finished the turns in the potion, allowing himself fifteen minutes to rest. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Almost as soon as he finished the last turn of the ladle, he felt his knees give out. Barely yanking his chin back to stop himself from smashing his face against the cauldron's lip, Severus crashed down to the floor. His knuckles white from the force of his grip on the cauldron, he clawed at the ground with the other.

He gasped, pulling in vain for breath. Even with his eyes wide open, he swore the room turned circles around him, pressing around him and making him feel like he couldn't even force a single ounce of oxygen into his lungs.

Severus groaned as the vertigo hit him. His brow knitted together, trying to keep himself controlled, but it failed. He leaned over to one side, hanging off the cauldron, and wretched. The action made his body convulse with its force, and, for a moment, it took all Severus had in him not to release his grip on his anchor and pass out.

_Severus... Get a grip, you stupid bastard..._ He swore at himself, willing his anger and self-disgust to triumph out over his panic attack. _Come on..._ A sharp exhale escaped him as he forced himself to stand, pulling himself up using his cauldron. _Thank Merlin this thing weighs a ton._

His relief quickly vanished as two things happened at once: he registered that he had precisely twenty seconds to pour in exactly eleven Silver Stinging nettles, and nausea set in with renewed vigor.

"Nnghn, fuck me..." He groaned, one eye screwed shut in an attempt to fight off the nausea as best he could. His other hand shook violently as he grabbed the nettles off the table beside him.

_Steady... ste-_ His thoughts were disrupted by another wave of vertigo and he forced himself to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. The pain distracted him long enough to add the final ingredients.

Quickly, he counted them out, feeling his conscience slipping dangerously far away. _Eight, nine, ten, elev...ele..._

Severus Snape hit the ground as the nettle integrated into the potion, turning it a smooth and creamy white from its previously thick, gray state. A faint blue smoke rose from its surface, hanging languidly above the mixture.

The Wolfsbane was complete, barely. All that remained was to let it mature in its vials for the week and deliver it to the werewolf seven days before the full moon.

As Severus lay on the ground, curling himself into a ball and fighting back sobs of fear and distress as he felt every side of his room press in on him, the eleventh nettle rolled away from him quietly.


	2. Chapter 2: Late

_A/N: Thank you for your interest in Wolfsbane & Chocolate so far, folks! Here's Chapter Two a day early as I may be busy tomorrow night. So, enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Two: Late**

"Severus, you're late." Remus's voice had that soft concern that irritated his colleague immensely - this he knew, and only half-cared.

"And your powers of observation are outstanding, Lupin." Severus drawled, trying to keep his tone only as venomous as usual. His recent attacks had led to him being more caustic than even he thought was reasonable. And for once, he was loath to control himself.

Of course, the attempt to be cold didn't work on the werewolf. It never seemed to.

With a controlled bang, Severus roughly - but certain not to damage - set the crate of eight vials down, each the size of a small milk jar filled to the brim with a silvery liquid that was reminiscent of the moonlight that called for its use.

"You know what to do." The Potions Master said, turning on his heel without even waiting to see Lupin's nod of understanding, or his resigned and forlorn look.

"I do..." The tawny-haired man said, and Severus, walking away, could hear the regret and loathing clearly in his colleague's voice above the billowing of his black cloak. "I do..."

* * *

"What is it? What's happened?!" Minerva McGonagall's shrill voice cut through the mayhem that engulfed the Hospital Wing. Poppy, Albus and Sybill were rushing about settling in someone who was groaning ever so softly in pain into the bed closest to Poppy's office.

"Something went wr- oh, back _off_, Albus!" Poppy swatted at the Headmaster's shoulder attempting to gain more access to her patient before continuing her explanation. "Something went wrong with Remus's transformation."

"What? Did he turn fully? What about the-"

"Wolfsbane? I don't know - ask Severus." Poppy snapped, settling the moaning wizard onto more pillows, her swift movements and ability to lift the man belaying any notion of her being 'old'.

"Wh- Albus, what does this mean?" Minerva asked, concern etched across all her features as she clutched her tartan housecoat around her slight frame. She, like several other members of staff, had been alerted in the early hours of the morning by Albus to the fact that their colleague had undergone a troubled transformation. While he'd been returned to human form fine enough, he bore more vicious wounds than any of them had seen on him in years.

"I'm not sure, Minerva. But I doubt it's serious." Albus said, attempting to reassure her and the other staff members.

"_Not serious?!_" Poppy saw to it that Albus' once-more hollow lies were popped promptly. "Albus, how is _this-_" She gestured to a long gash along Remus's arm. "_-_ not serious?! Great Merlin's Ghost, man! And you call yourself our Headmaster!" The mediwitch shrieked, stripping Remus of his clothing and summoning bandages soaking in a healing salve to her. As she lay the bandages on, Remus moaned and grimaced. "Shame on you, Albus - have you no feeling at all in that old, withered heart of yours?!"

Albus grimaced slightly at her words and seemed to shrink on himself. "Sorry," he mumbled.

At that point, the door to the wing opened - no banging or loud noises - and Severus swept into the room. Aside from the absence of his usual billowing cloak, he appeared to be wearing the exact same thing he wore every day - impossible buttons and all. He quickly made his way to Remus' bedside, his expression unreadable and his mouth set. The man ignored the clamourings of his colleagues.

At least until Poppy smacked him upside the head with the bandages he'd prepared himself two weeks previously. That got his attention.

But before he could even open his mouth, Poppy pointed furiously at Remus, who was still moaning on the bed and trying his hardest not to be sick with pain. Her voice was more reprimanding than anything even he could have mustered.

"Severus! Tobias! Snape!" Each part of his name had been more shrill than the last and he cringed, the first expression he'd displayed. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "What on _earth_ have you done?! I can't imagine you'd do such a thing - put him into so much pain like this. I don't care if he _had_ bit you when you were a wee child, this is simply too much!"

"Poppy!" Rolanda admonished, shocked as the rest of the staff at her outburst. The witch reached for her friend, but the mediwitch would have nothing of it. She jerked her hand away and seemed to make to hit Severus with it on the arm, but she stopped herself.

"The entire time after he turned back, he was crying that it felt like he was still trapped in the middle of shifting - his entire skeletal structure feels like it's on fire!" Her yell had lowered to an enraged whisper, but her eyes held the ferocity that rooted Severus to the spot.

"Poppy..." Rolanda reached for Poppy again and this time she let herself be calmed down. Poppy turned from Severus and returned her attention to Remus, Rolanda following after casting a concerned glance at the Potions Master.

Severus looked down, hiding his face in his long dark hair. His hands were balled into fists beside him and, if one looked close enough, they shook slightly. With a fraction of a glance at Remus's prone form on the bed, Severus turned on his heel and marched to the small potions room attached to the Hospital Wing. He knew he would invite a shower of questions, pestering and fussing. He didn't care.

_Oh, Lupin... I'm so sorry..._ He had never been a stranger to guilt, but the feeling Severus felt coursing through him as he began mixing a symptom calming potion was worse. _If it hadn't been for that damn attack... _

He hadn't even known he'd missed a nettle. It was only after a thorough hand-cleaning of the dungeon later that evening that he'd found it - and it had been then that he'd been summoned by Albus to the hospital wing. Thank Merlin it hadn't been two missing - or they would have had an uncontrollable werewolf on their hands.

"Severus, what happened?" Minerva, of course, was first to ask him - or at least first for him to hear. She always had some way of breaking through whatever barriers he tried to erect in his ears - he assumed it was her shrill voice, but it could have been the fact that she had been his teacher for seven formative years.

Either way, he didn't want to hear it.

He kept mixing as he heard their questions, their pestering and their accusations. For all he cared, they were right - it _was_ his fault, Lupin _was_ in too much pain and it was all because of him. The least he could do, as a Potions Master and as a colleague, was try to ease the pain and fix his mistake.

_That's it, that's what I did. That's what happened._ He thought to himself angrily.

When someone's hand touched his shoulder, Severus snapped. Without looking up, without breaking the circular and metronomic pace of his stirring, he spat out words that he hated most.

"I made a mistake!"

The hand withdrew and predictable, disgusting silence permeated the room, save only for Remus's barely repressed groaning. He hated that.

"It's not like I'm not human - I make mistakes like anyone else!" He snarled at them, quickly drawing five empty vials from the pocket on his jacket and filled them with the potion. He stoppered them as he marched to Lupin's bedside. Poppy made to stand between them, but Albus held her gently back by the shoulder. When she turned to him, about to make a fuss, he simply gestured at the scene before them.

Severus knelt next to Remus's bedside and reached out to him. His hand hovered uncertainly above the werewolf's arm and he decided against touching him as the man moaned. Instead, Severus leaned in closer to Remus's ear.

"Remus? It's Severus…" He whispered, soft enough that only he could hear him.

Remus stilled a little and cracked open an eye. He mouthed Severus's name, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut against a cry of pain.

"Shhh, be still." The Potions Master ordered quietly. He lacked Poppy's bedside manner, he knew that much. He uncorked a vial of potion and held it up in front of Remus so the man wouldn't have to move to see it. "I made a mistake with your Wolfsbane, I'm sorry. I… It escaped me at the time. You didn't go out of control, but I'm afraid it doesn't help much with pain." He shook the vial lightly, and the light green liquid glowed faintly. "This is a bit of a pain serum with Ulyssian beetle wing - there are five vials. Each will ease the pain and on the last vial, it'll stop completely."

Remus moaned a bit in reply, and Severus knew his question.

"I wish I could give you all five at once and stop this immediately, but that amount of beetle wing in one shot would only make you worse." He wanted to touch his colleague on the shoulder, reassure him it'd be alright, but he was afraid of hurting him more. He didn't deserve to comfort the man he had put in so much pain. "Remus, please. I'll give you the first, and in another two hours you'll get the second."

Remus nodded very slightly, but it was enough for Severus to count as consent. With extreme care, he slowly magicked the head of the bed up so he could tip the potion into his colleague's mouth. The rest of the staff stood by, shell-shocked by Severus's admission and now his tenderness to someone whom they all knew him to hate. Soon, the vial was empty and Remus was able to fall asleep.

Severus slowly lowered the bed down and turned to Poppy with the other four vials. He didn't sport his usual look of contempt or disgust, instead, he wore a tired, sad and pained expression. Instantly, any anger she had at him vanished. The poor boy really _was_ sorry.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said, holding out the vials to her. "These will help ease his pain and rectify the mistake I made in his potion." He spat the word 'mistake' out like it burned his lips. "One every two hours until they're gone."

She nodded and took the vials from him, still staring at him as though he'd grown wings or something.

As soon as she had taken the potions from him, Severus turned on his heel, jerking his head to hide his face in the cascades of long black hair and stalked from the room. His steps felt forced and stiff, rather than the usual cool and arrogant air with which he held himself from day to day.

"Severus?" Poppy called to him as the exited the wing - she was the only one to speak. The man she called to stopped suddenly, but refused to turn around. "Please, dear. It's 'Poppy'. We're friends, now, dear."

She saw him give a short jerk of the head - a gesture that called to memory the image of that same man as a child, lanky, thin and with the same dark hair and robes, doing exactly the same motion as a child when she called out to remind him to take his medicine or to come to her if he had more trouble - and he swept down the stairs towards the dungeons.

* * *

Severus sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed in his pants, shirt and jacket. He had been halfway through unbuttoning the front of his coat when he stopped, staring into the black, dead fireplace in thought.

He sat without making a sound, his hand still paused at the fourth button down on his black jacket, revealing a pristine high-collared white shirt beneath. His hair fell to one side, the other tucked behind his ear - he hated when it got in the way when he tried to unbutton - and his expression was blank.

His breathing was even, and he could have been asleep had not his eyes been open and staring off into the distance.

_I've made a mistake._ He thought, turning the fact over and over in his mind. _This is ridiculous. I'm the bloody _Potions Master_, I'm not supposed to make mistakes._

He shook his head furiously and began unbuttoning again. In a fury, he flung his jacket across the room and plopped himself down on the bed. The clock on the wall said it was 4AM. He had five hours before he had to face his Griffyndor-Slytherin class. While they were always amusing with their petty hatred, they took a lot of energy and were absurdly annoying. Not to mention the fact that Potter's presence could very well set him off on another panic attack. The boy had his mother's eyes, Albus had been right, but he had his father's temperament.

_You're slipping, Severus._ He admonished himself as his eyes drifted closed. _The great Potions Master and former Death Eater is slipping. Bloody brilliant._


	3. Chapter 3: By Plyth and Chocolate

_A/N: Whoa! There's some pretty passionate people out there, ha ha! Thanks for your comments regarding the last chapter — I appreciate it, folks! Poor Poppy, though! You folks are laying into her like mad, ha ha! Sorry 'bout the length of this chapter - I felt there weren't any good places to chop it into two. Next chapter up in a week. Cheers and enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Three: By Plyth and Chocolate**

He hadn't been sleeping.

Everything was just really too much. His panic attacks had become more frequent, and he had started to develop anxiety of future attacks as well. He'd developed a phobia of making mistakes and it had caused him to be on edge, making him even more of a wanker to deal with - more, even, than he himself would have thought appropriate.

He'd been called into Albus' office on more than one occasion, and spoken to sternly about his treatment of students. While Filch was on his side, the majority of the staff found his renewed aggression to be too much. He was frequently sending students out of class, and usually had one or two incidents of crying students fleeing from his presence in a week. He recently noticed that whenever he walked the halls, students seemed to vanish from sight - a welcome change, but also a bit disheartening.

_I _am_ slipping,_ he thought. He had to admonish himself for being a blatant arse. Not so much because it was mean, but because it had caused him unwanted attention. _Of course, _he justified, slightly bemused and chagrined at the situation that afforded him the ability to still remain slightly under the radar with his recent attitude change, _I can always blame this on the incident with that plank Longbottom._

A vulture-topped hat? Couldn't Lupin have suggested something _else_ for the child to imagine him in? Or maybe that would have been worse. While the man had always been more kind to Severus, he _had_ run with the Marauders.

"Enough of this." Severus muttered to himself. He shook his head lightly and returned to correcting the essays in front of him. They were from his time substituting as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for Lupin - the ones he asked for regarding werewolves and their identifiers.

Half the papers were extraordinarily basic, and the other half were adequate but only just. One paper stood out from the rest. Granger's - that cheeky little muggle-born. Severus snapped at her quite a bit, but he honestly had nothing against the girl. She was smart. She drew his attention in that way, and unfortunately his temperament made it so that 'attention' usually meant 'ass-hattery'.

_You're an arse, Severus Snape. A right arse._ He told himself, but set to correcting the girl's paper.

It was spot-on, in every detail. As he continued reading, Severus's frown grew darker. He'd done it now, but at least it was the Granger girl. She could keep a secret - and if not, he would see to it that her Time Turner be revoked.

_Well, sod it. She knows… _He groaned inwardly. _She really _is_ the brightest witch of her generation. _

Unless Granger was in the habit of cheating as well, it was clear from her essay that she'd identified Lupin as a werewolf.

_It's alright, Severus._ _If anyone, she'll be able to keep his secret._

* * *

"Severus!" Irma Pince, the old librarian, exclaimed softly - soft-spoken as always - when Severus showed up at her office in the library. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Irma, how are you?" Severus asked, more as formality than of any interest. He was tired, it showed and he just wanted to crawl back into bed - even if he couldn't sleep. "I'm wondering if you could look up a book for me?"

"Oh, of course." She said, getting up from her desk and walking past him to the counter beside her office door. A thick tome with a handwritten ledger of all the books in the Hogwarts Library floated up to meet her. "Do you know the name?"

"_Solution Salves and Problem-Solving Potions _by Trinity Plyth." He drawled, mentioning the book casually. Of course, his attempt to be suave was trumped by Irma's intimate knowledge of all things books.

"Oh, my. That's a rare one." Irma said, waving her wand above the book. "Filled with extremely complex and powerful healing potions, I hear - though they can be quite dangerous. Has someone become ill?"

_Bugger off, old bat! _He cursed the woman in his mind, but kept his expression aloof.

"No, but I figure with Lupin around, there might be the possibility of needing one. Not to mention the Dementors - there might be something in there that could help with the students so affected that they keep clogging up the Hospital Wing." He eyed the corner of the counter disinterestedly. "Something better than Lupin's chocolate, at least. Lest the student body all become addicted or obese."

"Severus." Irma admonished, but lightly and with a smile. She'd always been one who could understand his sense of humour - dry and cutting, but still humour. He appreciated it now, most of all.

"Do you have it?" He asked, his voice gentle. She was the same woman who helped him find books as a young boy, fascinated by potions. She'd always been gentle with him despite how cold she seemed to all the other students, and he couldn't well be an ass to her. He imagined she was what a grandmother would be like.

"Ah, yes. We do." Irma said, the tome finally landing on a page on which the inscribed title of the book Severus was looking for glowed and seemed to rise off the page. The librarian witch raised her wand. "Accio _Solution Salves and Problem-Solving Potions_!"

A quick flick and Severus heard the tell-tale woosh of the spell flying past him. No sooner than he turned around did he have to duck out of the way to let the book fly into Irma's firm grip. It was a heavy book and she had to set it down on the counter immediately. She huffed as she put it down and a cloud of dust rose from it - it obviously hadn't seen use in quite some time.

"Alright, just give me a moment and I'll get it signed out to you." She said, pulling a magical quill out from an ink jar below the countertop. In red ink, she spelled out 'Severus Snape' and the date in the large tome that recorded the library's contents. Immediately, the ink turned black and seemed to settle into the page, rustling a bit as it did. Somehow, it made Severus jealous. _I want to settle in comfortably like that…_

"Severus?" Irma's voice came to him, sounding a little strained. He came out of his reverie to see her struggling slightly under the weight of the thick book she held out for him. Hurriedly, he took the book from her.

_Oh, fuck. _It was heavier than he expected and he realized that his lack of appetite and sleep had made him much weaker than he thought.

"Sorry, Irma." He muttered, shifting the book, attempting to hide that he was struggling. "Thank you."

"Of course, Severus." Irma said, patting him lightly on the arm. She smiled warmly at him before bidding him a good day and making her way back to her office. He watched her quietly, and turned to lug his new find back to his dungeons.

He gave up carrying it halfway and levitated it in front of him instead, spreading the pages open so it looked like he was reading it as he walked. If a student came upon him, it would look like he was simply obsessed in his newest plan to devise a hardly possible potion for his OWL students rather than too weak to carry a book.

By the time he reached the door to his quarters - a small nook hidden behind a painting of a rather vicious jungle snake in the lower floors of the castle - he had become honestly enraptured by the book.

_This could have the solution to everything. _He thought, earnestly and desperately believing that perhaps he could overcome his panic attacks through means of potion. He spoke the password to his quarters - 'frolicking lion cubs', taking a leaf from Albus' book in speaking something so unexpected it could hardly have been guessed by even the most shrewd student - and floated the book in.

He shed his cloak without bothering to hang it up, unbuttoned his jacket as he summoned a goblet of wine to the table by his fireplace and, with a wave of his hand, set fire to the wood. He threw his jacket over the back of the worn deep green armchair by the hearth and continued reading, occasionally reaching over to sip his wine.

The contents of Plyth's massive book were impressive. Dangerous and highly complex, but impressive. Everything from panic attacks to mental disorders and other plagues of the mind were promised to vanish with adequate dosage. Severus studied the materials and was soon making notes of his own in a little booklet. He was gaining confidence; the materials would be expensive, the process time consuming and even more exact than Wolfsbane, but it held tremendous promise.

_I can get back to normal with this._ He thought, determined to get his life back. Over the next weeks, he was absolutely absorbed in the book. He finished his meals quickly - whatever little food he ate - and spent every spare moment in his classroom and in the evenings studying the material. Soon, he had perfected the approach to making the Mind-Stilling Draught, a potion meant to assuage panic attack symptoms and keep the attacks at bay.

Re-reading the inscription in Plyth's book, Severus noted that it would only address the symptoms. The shortness of breath, the insomnia, the nausea - but it wouldn't cure it. That was something Plyth had stated again and again that her readers, whom she assumed were Healers and Potion Masters for hospitals, encourage whoever requested the potion to seek more permanent help.

The Potions Master didn't care. He was sure he'd figure out whatever was causing his attacks somehow, but the symptoms were inconvenient and he needed to get rid of them if he had a hope of avoiding making another embarrassing and potentially lethal mistake.

It took him one week to brew the first batch of the draught. As Plyth's book was meant for professionals mixing large batches for hospital use, the batch wrought him two dozen doses. Enough to last him for at least three months according to Plyth's directions.

* * *

_Eight, nine, ten, eleven._ Severus nodded sharply when the Wolfsbane turned its creamy white colour. It was done, and, this time, it was perfect as per usual, down to the shade of its smoke.

"Doubt me now, why don't they." The man scoffed under his breath as he left the potion to simmer for a few hours. He stalked back to his desk and sat down in front of _Solution Salves and Problem-Solving Potions_ once more.

He felt great. While recently he hadn't been able to sleep without a sleeping potion or two, he had regained a bit of his appetite and he hadn't had an attack in a month. It had been almost two months since his mistake with Lupin and if he didn't still have the occasional headache, he would have declared himself a new man.

Thank Merlin he had been a right jerk to all the students and they now avoided him like the plague, otherwise he may even have shown them mercy - that would have set Poppy on him like a hawk, he was certain of it.

He sipped at some mulled cider with Firewhiskey as he poured over the next potion he was considering - a healing salve that, while it burned like hellfire itself and smelled like old cheese, promised to heal even severe cuts and reduce scarring to an absolute minimum, if not eliminate it completely.

_Lupin would like that._ He mused, tracing a finger over the ingredients list to see if there was anything that would interact badly with the contents of Wolfsbane. Seeing none, he continued reading the directions of the salve. _But he would hate the smell. Ah, it looks fairly simple, and Poppy could always cast some nose-disabling spell on the wolf, I bet._

Severus finished the cider and, glancing at the Wolfsbane to see it had settled into its silvery finished state, got up to bottle it.

Eight vials were filled and the small amount of remaining potion was vanished. Severus packed them into the small chest he kept to transport them in and returned to his place by the fire.

A week more with Plyth's book and he would be set. The Wolfsbane would be ready, and he had enough time to brew a few trial batches of the healing salve. With any luck, it would be a nice surprise for Lupin. While the Potions Master was loathe to admit it, he still felt a pang of guilt every now and again for his mistake. He hoped that the healing salve would ease that — while simultaneously providing him the opportunity to assault Lupin's sensitive nose.

* * *

A week passed, and the vials of Wolfsbane in the transport chest were complete. Severus picked out one and shook it lightly, satisfied at the light blue glow that the smoke in the top centimeter of the vial emitted. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a small vial of shockingly blue liquid — the Mind-Stilling Draught — and drained it. The taste was terrible, but its effects had been promising so far. It was only his second week taking the Draught, but he could feel the symptoms were almost completely gone.

With a tight nod, the Potions Master took the chest and set off to deliver the potions. He and Lupin had agreed earlier in the year for the deliveries to be made in the Defence professor's quarters to avoid the chance of students seeing the Wolfsbane and, unlikely as it is, identifying it. Though now that the Granger girl knew, Severus felt the move most appropriate.

_Naturally, I can't let the wolf know the girl's aware._ Severus thought to himself as he made his way up. Not that the girl would tell, but if Remus knew, he'd surely do something rash and freak out - or worse, figure out that it had been Severus's own assignment that had tipped her off.

As Severus made his way up the stairs out of the dungeons and to the first floor corridor, he felt something worrying start creeping up on him. As he thought about giving the Wolfsbane to Remus, his mind kept returning to the sight of the man lying in bed, not even able to writhe in pain. And it had been _his_ fault, of course. Because of a stupid mistake, and an even more idiotic panic attack. Him! A hardened spy, a Potions Master and the scariest teacher in Hogwarts - reduced to a crying heap due to some unprovoked panic attack.

_No._ He admonished himself. _You have the draught, this is just fatigue._

But no matter what he told himself, Severus felt his chest tightening with every step closer to Remus's quarters. Along with that, his anxiety seemed to return in full force and he couldn't fight a desire to bolt from his walking pace and run straight to the werewolf's quarters - as strange as that sounded. At least there, he could get his stupid duty over with and run to the staff room to sit in front of the fire until he calmed down.

Severus made it to the second floor corridor that housed Remus's quarters before the ground started to shake beneath him. His breathing was laboured, short and painful; he felt like someone had clapped one of Pomona's mandrake-proof earmuffs over his head and cinched it in place with a metal clasp that tightened by the step; he was sure that this time he wouldn't be able to hold back his urge to tear screaming from the castle.

The Potions Master forced himself to walk as briskly as he could to the statue of a goblin trio singing that acted as the doorway to his colleague's rooms. Fortunately, there were no students in sight to see him, shaking and bracing himself against the wall, with his hair falling into his face and his eyes fixed on exactly nine bricks ahead on the floor in front of him with each step.

"Knobbles." Severus grunted through his teeth. The statue swung open in what felt like slow motion, taunting him to stay just barely in control of himself before opening up to allow at least a little bit of privacy. With any luck, Remus would be out and Severus could huddle in a corner until it was all over.

When there was just enough space, Severus rushed in, waving an angry hand at the statue to force it back into place instead of opening the full way. Immediately, he put the chest of potions down on the low table and knelt in front of the couch, hanging on to the fabric for dear life. He chest was heaving, but he felt like he could barely pull any oxygen into his lungs. He felt sweat dripping from his brow and absolute terror set in so deeply he feared he'd never get rid of it.

He could swear he heard growling - the growling he'd heard all those years ago - and turned around, slamming his back against the edge of the couch. Feeling its solidity made him feel like at least his back was protected, but his eyes danced wildly from corner to corner of the room, trying to make sure he wasn't about to be jumped by a pre-maturely transformed Remus.

As Severus shifted his gaze, he could feel his heart beating against his ribs. It felt like it was about to break through and he clawed at it, willing to push it back in. As his breathing kept getting more and more rapid, and more and more shallow, darkness started to push in. The memory of almost being attacked kept surfacing in his memory and Severus felt absolute terror - stronger than anything he'd ever felt - taking over. He grabbed desperately at his hair and chest, trying to distract himself from the panic.

He let out a strangled scream as his tactics failed. It sounded small compared to his usual deep voice. Small, pained and much too young to be facing all he was.

Severus's strangled screaming as he bit his lip soon faded to whimpers as his body lost energy and he fainted, with the sound of growling and werewolf claws on wood plaguing him.

* * *

"Ah, you've come to."

While he'd more or less jerked awake, the voice he heard made Severus want to screw his eyes shut and fade back into black again in regret.

_Of all the…_ The Potions Master opened his eyes and looked at the source of the sound - Remus Lupin sat across from him in the armchair, an empty vial of Wolfsbane on the table between them. The damn bastard had a smile on his face - and not one of his forced, small smiles, either. This one was genuine, even a little amused!

"Lupin." Severus managed, unable to think of what he would otherwise like to say. He forced himself to sit up, noticing Remus lean forward in his seat in concern. "I'll manage, thank you."

"Of course." The Defence professor said, nodding, but keeping an eye. He reached into his pocket and put something rectangular and dull gold on the table.

Severus looked at it. _Of course, what else would it be?_ "Chocolate, Remus? Really?" He arched an eyebrow up at his colleague, looking entirely unimpressed. "I'm not one of your bumbling students."

"No, but I daresay you need it more than any of them." Remus replied, resting back in his chair and summoning his tea from a table further away.

"Not bloody likely-" Severus mumbled under his breath, but the werewolf cut him off.

"Imagine how I felt, walking into my rooms, to see Severus Snape, the feared Potions Master of Hogwarts and the only man I can count on to keep my sanity during…" Remus's voice grew softer and he paused, but he turned his eyes back at Severus with a hard look that took his colleague aback. "Just imagine it - I walk in and find you, completely out cold and drenched in sweat, collapsed on my floor. Do you know how much that gave me a shock?"

While his tone was calm, Remus was obviously anything but. His usually bleary eyes were drilling into Severus and his mouth was set. It took the Potions Master aback for a moment, but soon he felt indignant and angry. _He can't look at me like that! That's how he looks at Potter when the boy misbehaves!_

"Tch!" Severus scoffed, leaning back against the couch and looking down his nose at Remus, arrogance and disdain on his face. "Don't tell me you're worried about me - I'm not one of your bloody students."

"No, but you _are _my colleague and friend!" Remus practically rose out of his chair, but forced himself to stay seated. He gestured at the chocolate, quickly growing impatient. "Just eat it, will you, Severus?"

The dark haired wizard frowned. Him? Remus's friend? Colleague, yes, and he admired the man's professionalism with how much he brought up the fact that he was werewolf and how much lip he gave him, but to be considered a _friend_? It effectively shut Severus up in shock.

He reached out and took the chocolate, unwrapped it and bit into it quietly. It was a sweet, but not sickly sweet, milk chocolate blend. And not cheap stuff from a Muggle convenience store, either - rich, creamy and high quality. He'd never admit it, but Severus did feel better after taking a bite. The clenching feeling in his chest loosened slightly and he felt the edge come off his all-too familiar anxiety - he didn't feel like he was on the verge of another attack any longer. His relief must have showed on his face, because Remus relaxed and smiled at him.

"You see?" He said, giving a small laugh when Severus merely nodded. While he tried to look as nonchalant as ever, he was quite clearly enjoying the chocolate as his eyes drifted shut for just a moment after every bite. The Defense professor's expression waned. "You've been having panic attacks, haven't you?"

Severus choked in reply. Remus pressed on.

"Don't bother asking me how I know, Severus. I'm no stranger to them myself - and I daresay you've done a fine enough job of hiding it. I probably wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't collapsed." Remus took another sip of his tea, eyeing his friend as the dark haired man continued nibbling at the chocolate bar, albeit a little bit slower. "You don't usually make mistakes, and you certainly would never have made one intentional with something like the Wolfsbane. Not with a chance that it could render it ineffective."

Severus nodded silently, wondering where Remus was going with his blabbering. Was he going to blackmail him? The man suddenly blanched - what if he told Albus? Or worse, Poppy? He was about to open his mouth to protest when Remus held up his hand to stop him.

"I won't tell, don't worry. I don't like being mollycoddled by Poppy any more than you do." The werewolf laughed bitterly. "No, I get far enough of that. However, I can't ignore it if you feel that anxious and scared. I know what those attacks do to a person, Severus - I can see it in your eyes. You're paler than usual and you've a small tremor." He trailed off here and looked away from Severus. "Not to mention terrified when you look at me. I'm sorry that I contribute to your anxieties."

Severus sat in silence for a few moments, paused with the chocolate just before his mouth. Then he sighed quietly and jerked his head in a dismissive gesture.

"It's not your fault, Remus." He said, trying to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "I still haven't forgiven Black for trying to get me killed- he _was_ trying, you know. Don't deny it. But I know you have no choice. Still, I think it was a mistake just having a Whomping Willow that can be stopped by any half-wit with a working knowledge of herbology standing between your werewolf form and a school of eager, all-too-curious dunderheads."

"...Severus Snape, are you forgiving me?" Remus asked, incredulously.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself." Came the retort, muffled by a rather large bit of chocolate.

Severus and Remus passed a few moments in silence before the Potions Master decided it was time for him to leave. He folded up the wrapper around the remaining chocolate bar and meant to put it down on the table, but Remus stopped him.

"Take it, Severus." He said, giving the man a warning glance when he attempted to refuse. "It _does_ help, and I know you can't deny it."

"...Fine." Severus spat, tucking the bar away in the expanses of his robes with an indignant flourish. He jerked his head at the Wolfsbane. "You know what to do with those."

"Of course." Remus said, his remorse clear in his tone.

"Mmm." Severus nodded stiffly. "Well, we'll see you at breakfast."

"Yes." Remus nodded, watching as his colleague swept towards the doorway.

Before Severus made it out the door, Remus called after him.

"And Severus? If you ever need more, you've full access to my stash. Consider it a payment of sorts for the Wolfsbane - and a demand that you do come and get some from me when you need it, lest I slip to Poppy you're having some troubles."

Severus shot the werewolf his most acidic glare before he nodded his understanding and left.

Remus could have sworn he heard the sound of the wrapper through the small crack as the statue slid back into place.


	4. Chapter 4: Out Cold at Christmas

**Chapter Four: Out Cold at Christmas**

Christmas at Hogwarts. A cheery, magical time for everyone. Grand trees adorned the halls, the portraits sang carols endlessly and mistletoe hid in the most unsuspecting places.

And Severus Snape scowled at everything living.

_Sodding Christmas_. He swore to himself, looking positively sour and scrooge-like. Of course, this was his usual countenance during the holidays. Once the students left, it was a much better time for him, but until then it was utter hell. All the giggling, the hiding around mistletoe - like anyone would ever fall for _that_ half-baked excuse - and the bloody _decor_.

_It's as though Albus thinks this place is his own house._ Severus grumbled in his thoughts, making his way down to the Great Hall for the last dinner feast before the holidays officially began. As he neared the Hall, the sheer amount of racket gave his pre-existing headache a boost into a near-migraine.

He reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of clear lilac liquid - a headache potion, not from Plyth, but potent enough. He drained it in one go, ignoring his desire to pull a face at its horrible taste. It took the edge off the headache, but not completely.

Severus sighed. It had been getting worse nearing Christmas. He wasn't sure if it was stress or just something else, but he had finished his first batch of the Mind-Stilling Draught and was already halfway through his second batch - taking three doses a week rather than two. He knew he was likely opening himself up to risk of rejection or reaction, but without the increased dosage, he feared he would experience an attack a week.

He shivered involuntarily a few steps from the entrance and stopped in his tracks. He glanced at a nearby window and gave himself a quick check over. He looked ragged, tired and stressed. Older, too.

_Chalk that up to the idiocy in the classroom and the extra detentions for public displays of affection_. He told himself, and shook his head to get a few strands of hair to give his eyes some meager cover. _At least it just looks like I'm all too ready for the holidays._

As he entered the Hall, braving the cacophony, he hoped desperately that Poppy wouldn't pay him too much attention. Thankfully, he noticed she'd already seemed to have found the teachers' spiked eggnog and her usually razor-sharp observational skills were pleasantly fuzzy. To his dismay, however, his "usual" seat had remained vacant - between Albus and Remus, on the left side of the Headmaster. _I start the holidays next to the bloody werewolf. Brilliant._ He thought snarkily.

"Remus." Severus said tersely, sitting down and trying his hardest not to simply collapse into the chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, willing the potion to do more than it had. But a sharp poking at his leg made him look to his colleague out of the corner of his eye, glaring from beneath his black hair in as scary a way as possible.

It was a stack of three chocolate bars - from what Severus could tell, there were three types: white, milk and something else. From the weeks in which he'd begrudgingly visited Remus's quarters - all under the guise of talking to him extensively about Wolfsbane - Severus had perused the man's extensive chocolate collection enough to know that dark chocolate seemed to be all but ignored. The Potions Master imagined that its bitter nature would be ill-suited to the warming qualities of the rest of the stuff.

But he wasn't concerned with the vintages of chocolate at that moment. He made no move to take the bars held out to him discreetly under the table. Instead, he frowned at Remus.

"Gifts aren't for another week, man." He muttered.

"Then consider it an apology, for th-" Remus was cut off by Severus violently grabbing the bars from him with such a deadly look that it would have scared off a Boggart itself.

"Not. Another. Word." Severus ground out through his teeth, knowing that Remus was about to mention the blasted vulture-topped hat the the idiot Longbottom had imagined him in. It had already been a month, couldn't they drop it? When Remus put his hands up and retreated, albeit with a rather large smile and an annoyingly familiar twinkle in his eyes, Severus looked down at the three chocolate bars sitting in his lap.

With a furtive glance around, finding no one watching him, he quickly looked through them. The first was a milk chocolate, the second a white and the third was what seemed to be a promisingly delightful milk chocolate mixed with hazelnut creme. The Potions Master fought the urge to look at the man to his left. He nodded at the chocolates instead and tucked them silently in his robe.

He heard Remus huff gently in appreciation.

_Blasted werewolf…_

* * *

Before long, it was that time again.

Severus imagined that, if what he overheard from some of the conversations he'd been forced to witness while escorting some of his hysterical second and third year girls to the Hospital Wing were accurate, being a werewolf would be much like being a female. While, of course, he _knew_ of the monthly workings of the female body, thinking of it like that made him understand some of the times Lily had been so unusually angry with him when he was a young boy.

The dark haired wizard shook his head lightly. _No time for that, Severus. _He reminded himself sternly, stirring the Wolfsbane. After he had finished the final turn, he set his ladle aside and pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket. He'd already finished the white and milk chocolate bars Remus gave him the week previous, so the Potions Master hesitatingly broke open the golden packaging of the hazelnut cream-filled milk chocolate bar. He had hoped to save the bar for some special occasion, but as the empty boxes of chocolates scattered all across his chambers attested, he had no other option but that one if he hoped to enjoy the warm, safe feeling that chocolate afforded him.

_Curse that Lupin… Now I'm just like some school girl, addicted to chocolate. _He thought to himself, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to mean it. It _did_ help him feel better, and not only after passing past the Dementors, either. Although he had had an attack already that week, he didn't quite dread the time between them as much has he used to - the Mind-Stilling Draught and chocolate truly played their part.

Shaking his thoughts from his head, Severus sniffed at the chocolate, enjoying its rich and creamy aroma, before taking a small bite from the corner. He closed his eyes as he let the chocolate melt on the surface of his tongue and he savoured its light hazelnut flavour. Oh, it felt like heaven had just settled all down his spine - he felt muscles relax and his breathing deepen more than he thought it could without some kind of potion. Quickly, the man abandoned his reflections and scarfed down two rather large bites, taking a full third of the bar into his mouth at once and chewing almost ravenously. The taste was divine, but the feeling of warmth was what he was most addicted to. With his Draught dosage at a vial every other day, he was far out-doing what Plyth recommended as her readers' dose.

Though he knew he was running tremendous risks by abusing the Draught, Severus would have accepted anything before suffering attacks more frequently. Or being confronted by Poppy if he collapsed again. He couldn't tell which was less desirable, though he would probably pin the fears on another attack. As of late, they had been getting worse. His mind seemed to be growing in the strength of its delusions, as the attack he had suffered earlier in the week he had been among the worst he had yet experienced.

The sensations had been almost physical — something Severus feared above all else.

_Shut up._ The Potions Master admonished himself, shaking his head and tucking the remainder of the chocolate in his cloak. He stalked around the Wolfsbane, examining its swirls and shades of white with a severely exacting eye. _Distract yourself_, he thought.

After what felt like days of shifting his gaze from an intent examination of the cauldron to a sharp glance at the clock on the wall and back to the cauldron again, the Wolfsbane finally turned its finished silver-white hue. Severus immediately snuffed the flame and cooled the cauldron with magic, his neck and shoulders stiff from remaining upright.

Some part of him refused to eat any more of that divinely delicious hazelnut chocolate bar that Remus had gifted him, and willed himself to control his anxiety without it.

With a gesture, the dark-haired wizard summoned the vials on the counter towards him. Carefully, he ladled Wolfsbane into each one until they were full to the brim and tightly stoppered. He magicked them into the padded crate set on the mantle of the fireplace and set to doing the last bit of cleaning on his brewing room. Since his mistake with the eleventh nettle, an immediate and thorough cleaning of the brewing area had become an obsessive habit.

_Nothing amiss,_ Severus thought to himself and gave a nod. _Good_.

After a week of letting the potion mature, Severus took the crate in his hands and gave himself a quick look over in the mirror on the back of his brewing room door. He looked like shit, but the chocolate seemed to have restored a little colour to his skin. With a quick brush of his robes, Severus set off to deliver the werewolf's potions. It would help him stave off the transformation he was due to have slightly before Christmas, and hopefully the Recovering Elixir he had brewed from Plyth's tome would speed his recovery fast enough that he could enjoy the holiday with the rest of the staff.

Of course, nothing was to be that simple. Nor that happy.

* * *

The pain was different.

There was the panic, Severus felt the panic. That much was the same — tainting his breath, making everything feel dark, making the ground slip beneath him, making the walls press in. No, this time, there was a deep, searing pain that flared almost more than the anxiety — calling his attention to how it crackled up his neck and across his temples.

Each small movement seemed to conjure more crackling pains, and Severus fought to keep himself from screaming out. He tried to will his legs to move, to keep placing one foot in front of the next, but he couldn't even register if he was moving — or successfully keeping himself from screaming.

It felt like every inch of his nervous system had been electrified.

It was worse than when Voldemort used the Cruciatus curse on him. Worse even when it was combined with the times the Dark Lord attempted to force himself into his mind through his Occlumency, thinking the torture made him weaker. Right now, Severus would have given anything to trade places — Voldemort could torture him all he wanted, if he took away this pain.

He had made it halfway down the corridor before he collapsed. Whether due to the pain or the panic, Severus couldn't tell. The only things he registered as his vision grew dark were the shatterings of glass from the Wolfsbane vials and a thought that perhaps he _had_ overdone it on the draughts.

_What a wonder, Severus Snape. You are truly a one-of-a-kind idiot._

* * *

"Thank you, Professor."

Harry Potter turned as he exited his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's quarters after another successful Patronus lesson. Of late, they had been improving and his newfound Patronus had brought back some of his confidence.

Potter was thankfully too distracted by his own success to notice his Professor stealthily cast a Concealment spell over a prone form further down the hall. Lupin handed the boy his customary chocolate and, with a genuine smile and a firm handshake, sent him on his way.

Once Lupin was certain his student was truly gone, he rushed down the corridor to where he had cast his spell. With a word, he retracted it and revealed Severus' prone form.

"Oh, fuck..." He breathed, sitting back on his heels. He had a collapsed Potions Master, eight ruined vials of Wolfsbane and a veritable mess. He gently shook the man, trying to wake him up. "Severus?"

Something was wrong. His colleague wasn't even shivering - he was just plain out cold. Severus was feverish, absolutely still and he was more pale than Remus had ever saw him.

"Severus!" Remus called. The man didn't react at all and the Defence professor felt a deep sense of dread settle in. "Oh, shit..."

_He's going to hate me for this..._ He thought, and he gathered the man into his arms. With a forlorn glance, and a deep sense of sadness, Remus vanished the remains of the Wolfsbane. He levitated the empty crate behind him as he carried the Potions Master into his quarters.

He continued trying to wake the man, but got no response. With a flick of his wand, Remus sent some Floo Powder into his fireplace. He stepped into the hearth and announced his destination, praying that Poppy would be there.

"Hospital Wing!"

"Remus? Wh- Merlin! Is that Severus?!" Pomfrey had been reading a romance novel while nested in an armchair set near the fire when Remus stepped through. As soon as she'd seen him, he had her full attention — which made him highly uncomfortable.

"Yes." He replied, shifting the man in his arms slightly to give the Mediwitch access to his forehead. "I found him collapsed outside my quarters. I can't get him to respond."

"Alright. Lay him on here." Pomfrey said, leading Remus to a bed close to her office. She magicked the covers back and motioned for the man to lay his colleague down. "Get that absurd cloak off him."

"Right." Remus set Severus on the bed, adjusting his head on the pillow and straightening the man's spindly legs out. He never thought the dark haired man would have been so light. Carefully, he set to undoing Severus' cloak. It took a few moments to untangle the thing from him, and Remus couldn't help but sigh in resignation when he saw that removing the cloak barely put a dent in the layers his friend wore. He swore under his breath as he set about undoing the ridiculous number of buttons on the man's black jacket. "Really, Severus?"

While Remus fumbled around with the buttons, Pomfrey returned to Severus' side with her wand at the ready, casting a quick succession of diagnostic spells over him. The Defence professor watched, uneasy, as the Mediwitch's expression grew darker with every report back she received. He continued unbuttoning, unsure if he wanted to know what his friend's fate was.

"I've never seen this before…" Pomfrey muttered after thinking over the last report. She immediately set to ruffling through Severus' cloak as she continued her explanation. "He's overdosed, that's for sure. His body is rejecting several potion ingredients at once, combined with fatigue and exertion, and it's tearing him apart from the inside out. Add to that he seems to have gotten a concussion when he fell. Do you've any idea what he's been taking?"

"I-I don't." Remus answered, truthfully. He bit his lip, and, with a quick glance at Severus' prone form and paling complexion, decided to risk telling Pomfrey all he knew. "He's been having severe panic attacks — it's possibly a remedy to those."

"Panic attacks?" Pomfrey paused in her rustling to look up. "Maybe he's been taking a Draught of Peace, then. It could explain it— ha!" She stood back with an empty vial, containing some residual blue liquid.

"That doesn't look like Draught of Peace." Remus said, looking over as he finally undid the last button on Severus' coat. "It's usually white, not blue."

"You're right — I've no idea what it is." Pomfrey said, turning the vial around holding it up to the light. "I'm going to have to consult with St. Mungo's on this one — there's not much I can do if I don't know what this is. No potions until I can figure out what's in this."

As the Mediwitch held the potion up to the light, Remus felt his heart drop into his stomach for the second time in half an hour.

_The potion…_ He thought, looking desperately at the unconscious body of his colleague and sole source of Wolfsbane. _What am I going to do…?_ The werewolf thought back to his botched transformation earlier in the year, and felt fear creep into him steadily. _What if I go insane? What If I hurt someone? Wh-what if I kill— _

"Remus." Poppy's hand on his arm snapped the man out of his thoughts and he looked up. His expression was panicked and desperate, and he couldn't bring himself to control it.

"P-Poppy, he— I— Wolfsbane…!" He said, gesturing blankly at himself and Severus' sleeping form. He gently grabbed her shoulders and hung his head, his shoulders raised and his body shaking slightly. "Wh-what am I going to do?"

The Hogwarts Mediwitch gently freed herself from her colleague's hands and wrapped her arms around him, holding the taller man to her chest. Quietly, she rocked him side to side, holding him and cooing to him.

"It's going to be alright."


	5. Chapter 5: Potions for Lupin

_A/N: Hey, folks. Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I couldn't upload it yesterday night for some reason. Anyways, here it is! Though to be honest, I hate this chapter. _

* * *

**Chapter Five: Potions for Lupin**

"Ms. Granger, I assume you know this must be done with the utmost of secrecy." Albus Dumbledore stood in Remus' office. The Defence professor sat in an armchair behind him, holding his star pupil's paper on werewolves in one hand and his head in the other. His brightest student knew his secret — he couldn't believe it.

"So… So I'm right, sir?" Hermione asked, looking to her professor worriedly. Remus didn't look up, or react in any way. The ragged man tried to hide his devastation, but despite the hand covering most of his face, the young Gryffindor could see the tension in the corner of his mouth and the creases growing darker in his forehead. The Headmaster stepped forward, blocking his employee from the young witch's inquisitive gaze. While she was intelligent, her need for knowledge sometimes led her to be a tad too insistent.

"Yes, Ms. Granger — this is a rare instance where it is unfortunate that you are correct." Albus said, putting a hand gently on the girl's shoulder and drawing her attention to him. "You are familiar with the Wolfsbane potion?"

"Yes, sir— Oh!" The girl's eyes grew wide as she put the facts she had been gathering in her mind together. "That's what Professor Snape's been giving Professor Lupin! Wolfsbane!"

"Correct once more." Albus said, a twinkle in his eye. The girl's joy whenever she was right had to be admired, despite it being inappropriate at times. The old man's expression sobered and he leaned over the girl, putting both hands gently on her shoulder and speaking with a quiet sense of urgency. "Unfortunately, Professor Snape finds himself incapable of brewing the Wolfsbane and we are in need of another capable of brewing it."

"B-But, sir… The full moon is already 6 days away — Wolfsbane has to be taken for the week before the night of the transformation, and it takes a week to brew!" The girl exclaimed, her expression concerned and desperate. Behind the Headmaster, shielded from view, Remus' shoulders sunk even more in despair at the reminder of his predicament. "Wolfsbane is extremely difficult, sir. Even if I _could_ make it, it wouldn't be in time!"

"Not in time, Ms. Granger?" Albus asked, his smile gentle. He looked at the thin golden chain around the girl's neck and, after she had glanced down and pulled out the Time Turner, winked at her. "Come — we'll go to the tertiary potions room in the Hospital Wing. Once we're there, I'll tell you how many turns should do it."

Hermione nodded mutely and allowed the Headmaster to steer her from the room. Before they left, however, she turned and spoke to her Defence professor, still slouched in the chair with his face hidden from view. Her paper was clutched in his hand, and his shoulders were hiked high as though to shield him.

She couldn't say that she knew what he was going through — no. She couldn't even imagine. But she could try.

"Professor…" She ventured, and Remus stirred. Without shifting in his chair, he removed his hand to look at her. He offered a weak smile that didn't extend to his eyes. Sitting there, his body tired and bags under his reddened eyes, a weak smile on his lips and pain and fear in his eyes, the man figured he looked pathetic. But the girl proved once more that the heart of a Gryffindor is not so easily swayed by displays of weakness. "I'll do my best — we'll get you the Wolfsbane, sir. Please don't worry."

Remus stared at the girl, his thoughts mired between wanting to beg her to succeed and the other half wishing he didn't have to lock her into a room for weeks to try to brew a potion well out of her skill range. He blinked and tried to widen his smile.

"Of course, Hermione. Thank you." He said. His voice was tired, ragged and as much as he tried to inject some positivity and hope into it, he couldn't. He nodded to her, and she left.

* * *

"Remus?" It was Poppy's voice, quiet and inquisitive. It had been two days since she had last seen her young colleague, and she was very worried indeed. Remus didn't even bother to look up from his desk up in his office that overlooked his classroom, where Poppy stood in the center of the room. The wardrobe where he kept the boggart trundled as it heard the new voice, no doubt willing the Mediwitch to get closer so it could try to figure out how to scare her despite being locked away in the dark itself.

"I'm up here, Poppy." He called half-heartedly, not entirely sure he wanted to see her. He didn't get up when she appeared in the doorway to his small, cramped office. A single look at him showed her that her fears were correct — the man was letting his predicament get the better of him.

Remus sat, hunched in his chair, over a stack of essays from some of his classes. The quill that sat on the pile had lost all its ink to dryness, the coffee filling a third of his mug had long since gone cold and the single marked essay had an "A" classification on it with barely any other comments. It was obvious the poor man had done nothing but stare absently at the boggart's wardrobe since he had sat down to work on the essays at some unknown time earlier in the day.

"Oh, Remus." Poppy sighed, moving to the Defence professor's side. He looked up at her and tried a weak smile, but when she raised her eyebrows and shook her head gently, he let all pretense of a mask fall away.

"Poppy, I'm so scared!" The man exclaimed, dropping his head against her waist as he leaned forward into her arms. In his haste and utter despair, he dragged his arm too low across his desk and sent the essays fluttering to the floor. A strangled sound wrenched itself from his throat as he fought back a desperate sob. His hands tightened in her nurse's robes and she felt him push his face harder into her. "I'm going to turn… The first time this year!"

"Shhhh, there, now." She cooed, leaning down and holding Remus close. She could feel his body shaking under his tattered robes. His eyes had been red and surrounded by bags, his skin pale and almost tinged with a sickly green, and his breathing shallow. It was a wonder the man wasn't suffering panic attacks himself. "You haven't been up to visit Severus in a few days. I was worried you weren't doing too well… It seems I was right."

Her colleague withdrew from her embrace gently, looking up at the Mediwitch with eyes that reminded her of all the times she had taken care of him after Filch and Albus had shown up after the full moon with him cradled in one of their arms, covered in self-inflicted scratches and impossible-looking bite marks. Instantly, she clucked her tongue caringly and gathered him up in a closer hug.

"There, Remus, there…" She stroked his hair as she held him close, and tightened her embrace. For a few moments, she held him there and kept him close, willing him to feel safe and regretting once more her lacklustre potions skills that kept her from being able to supply the Wolfsbane herself.

"I can't face her." Remus groaned. For a moment, Poppy wasn't sure as to whom the man was referring to, but then she remembered. Hermione had been hard at work for almost a week, stuck inside the small secondary potions room attached to the Hospital Wing. It was rarely used, so when Albus had set the young Gryffindor up in the room, it was certain she wasn't going to accidentally be stumbled upon by herself. "P-pulling her from her family at Christmas for me… To doom her fail…!"

Poppy had written a note to herself for Hermione to deliver upon her arrival a week in the past to explain the situation the girl was in, which included instructions to set up a bed in the room and have House Elves assigned to help her, keep her company and bring up food. Of course, Poppy and Albus also kept the girl company when they could sneak into the unused Potions Room unnoticed, as per instructions included in notes from their respective future selves.

All in all, however, Poppy had to admit the situation was as strange and confusing as it was desperately needed. But it was Remus who was feeling the worst of it, trapped in guilt and fear. Hermione was his only hope to produce the Wolfsbane in time and with the discretion he needed, but it meant locking the young girl away in conditions he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"Is… Is she—?" Lupin couldn't finish the sentence, but looked up at the older woman. Tenderly, she stroked the side of his face and nodded.

"She's fine, Remus." And she wasn't lying. A small smile graced her lips. "In fact, I daresay she's completely lost herself in the brewing. She believes it's going well, but she is a rather cautious child. She's afraid to say that she can succeed."

The werewolf gave a soft laugh and, after a deep breath, he pushed himself back in his chair. Being depressed and despairing wasn't going to spare him, nor help the girl who stood to be his only hope.

"Good… Good." He breathed, and ran a hand over his face. Drawing a deep breath, Remus composed himself. He stayed, for a moment, with his eyes closed and his mouth drawn. But soon, he pushed himself from his chair and stood. He cast a glance at the papers he'd strew across the floor and waved them back up onto his desk. Once they were arranged, he flattened down the front of his robes — a move that made Poppy smile as she was once more reminded of the young man she often cared for, who did that each time he was about to leave her care after a full moon — and nodded to himself. "I should visit her, shouldn't I?"

"I think she'd like that, Remus." Poppy said, and she stood to the side to let him out of his office first. "Both Hermione and Severus would like that, I'm sure."

* * *

The Potions Room Hermione was using was much smaller compared to the one Severus used when he had to brew emergency potions in the Hospital Wing. But while it was smaller, it had a fairly good-sized window that looked out over the east side of the castle with a clear view of the sky and the lake in the distance. There was a small enchanted tent on one side of the room which inside contained a double bed, a small dining area, a lavatory and a study. Books were strewn everywhere inside, but with a mad and desperate sort of order to them. The bed was neatly made and a pot of peppermint tea with a Heating charm sat on the desk.

Outside the tent, a smaller round table with a quaint armchair stood on the other side of the brewing cauldron in the centre of the room. Hermione sat in the armchair, pouring over a well-worn leather bound volume. She didn't look up when Poppy and Remus entered the room at first, but when Poppy cleared her throat, the girl looked up and the concentrated frown she showed when reading vanished and a smile beamed across her face.

"Professor Lupin! Madam Pomfrey!" She exclaimed, and — after carefully depositing the book — rushed to them to give them a hug. Poppy laughed slightly as she gathered the girl into her arms and smoothed her unruly hair when she stepped back.

Before the Mediwitch could speak, however, the Gryffindor threw her arms around her Defence professor. While the girl buried her face in his chest and hugged him tightly, Remus hesitated to return the gesture. Poppy saw a flash of deep emotion on his face before he sighed and wrapped his long arms gently around his student. He said nothing, but it was clear there were too many thoughts to put into words racing through his mind.

As Hermione drew back, she had tears in her eyes. Remus gave her a sad smile and patted her on the head, absentmindedly trying to smooth the unruly locks of hair.

_Such a young girl… Too young for all this misery._ Remus thought to himself sadly, trying his best not to burst into tears of anger and self-loathing in front of the girl. Inwardly, he took a deep breath and composed himself. _Enough of this, Remus. You can't show her you've lost hope — that's not what she needs right now. Hope, Remus. Hope._

Before he could speak, Hermione beat him to the punch.

"It's so good to see you, Professor." Hermione said as she stepped back, wiping her tears away. "I'm sorry to be so emotional — it's just…" She gestured to the book on the chair. It was a book he'd read often when he was a student.

"Ah." He said, nodding knowingly. "Yes, _Werewolf Symptoms for the Unaware._ It can be rather traumatic, can't it?"

To say the book was traumatic was an understatement, and the man made a note to have some harsh words with Popp later for letting the girl read it. It had been authored by a wizard who spent his years after being infected experimenting on himself and describing all the ailments and explored solutions to his lycanthropy. Gory and horrific were words too weak to come close to describing the terrible scenes it illustrated.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through all of this, Professor." Hermione said, tears welling up in her eyes once more. "It's… It's so cruel! I—"

"Hermione, please." Remus cut her off, kneeling in front of her. Any pretense of strength left him and instead he was genuine in his concern and protectiveness of his student. "Don't think of it — you've enough on your plate."

He wiped away her tears and lifted her chin. He never realized it, but she really _was_ so young. He was immediately reminded of a young Lily Evans — another girl whose heart was often too soft for her own good. He smiled at her.

"That is my burden to bear. Not yours. But you _are_ helping." He inclined his head towards the cauldron. "How's it looking?"

Hermione nodded sharply, taking a deep breath and tilting her head in that way that made it look like she'd just internally scolded herself for weakness. "Right, Professor." She made her way over and looked in. "The ingredients are all in, so it's just simmering for a few more days. It should be ready in time."

Remus fought off a sigh of relief and gave her a nod.

"Good. I'm sure Professor Snape will be very proud." He said, smiling. Quite the contrary to what he had told the girl, Remus was almost certain that the Potions Master would be livid if someone else completed the Wolfsbane. He complained tirelessly about how complex it was, so if Hermione completed it well, he would have no choice but to recognize her as quite Outstanding.

* * *

"Remus, are you alright?"

Poppy's voice broke the werewolf out of his shocked reverie. Quickly, he pulled his face into a smile — he knew it was very obviously pained and forced, but he tried it anyways.

"I'm fine, Poppy, I'm fine." Remus turned to looked at Hermione, who was still standing in front of him, empty handed with her head hanging and her shoulders heaving. Watching her suffer under the weight of her failure was painful, but not as painful as the knowledge that, due to what this young girl couldn't accomplish, he would be transforming in a week. He tried to bury the growing feeling of panic that was building in his chest. "Hermione, don't cry."

"I-I— I'm so s-sorry, P-Professor!" She sobbed, looking like she would collapse any moment. From what Poppy had told her before the girl came in, Hermione hadn't slept the last 32 hours before the potion was done. She had missed the bottling moment by a mere few seconds, but it had unfortunately been enough to render the Wolfsbane useless.

"No, no." Remus stood, quietly praying his legs would hold under him despite how hopeless he felt, and made his way to her. He swept her into a gentle hug and smoothed her hair again. "I'm the one who should apologize, Ms. Granger. I shouldn't have tried to force this on you — it's too much for you to bear."

As he cradled his young student in his arms, he looked to his colleagues around the room. Albus stood to his right, his expression morose but set; Minerva stood next to him, torn between wanting to comfort her student and knowing that what was next was best for her; Poppy stood behind Hermione, at the ready. The Mediwitch nodded to the Defence professor. It was time. Silently, Remus produced his wand from his sleeve as he held Hermione to him. Whispering comforts to her, he gently held his wand above her head.

"_Obliviate._"

As the girl lost consciousness and fell into a temporary slumber, Remus guided her towards Poppy, who helped him lift her onto a waiting stretcher.

The week was up. And now, as Remus followed Poppy back to the Hospital Wing, where they planned to revive Hermione and restore her to her original timeline, the werewolf prepared himself for what was to come.


	6. Chapter 6: For the First Time in Years

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delay! Finished my last ever exam of my undergraduate career on Thursday and had a party on Friday. But here we are! The second to last chapter of Wolfsbane & Chocolate. Please enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Six: For the First Time in Years**

"Alright, Remus?" Hagrid's rough voice was oddly comforting. Remus shifted the pack on his shoulder slightly and gave the Groundskeeper a quick nod.

"Yes, Hagrid. Thanks." He replied, his voice subdued. _Of course I'm not alright, you oaf. _He thought to himself, scowling. _I'm about to turn into a bloody monster! What kind of idiot would be 'alright' in this situation?!_

"All set, then?" The half-giant said, more a statement than a question, and he threw a pebble with surprising accuracy at the knob in the Whomping Willow. With a few creaks, the tree stopped its moving and stood stock still.

The sudden silence terrified Remus. The opening at the base of the tree seemed to open wider, beckoning the man to enter and be eaten by some terrible darkness. Some horrifying beast that he couldn't escape.

_I want to run away…_

"I want to run away." Remus whispered under his breath. He wasn't even aware that he had said anything.

A gentle hand caressed his shoulder, and Remus turned to see Minerva. Without so much as a word, she wrapped him into a hug. Years forgotten, she once more held her terrified young Gryffindor in her arms and held him close as he tried to hold back sobs of fear — fear that would never leave him, nor let him enjoy the twilight.

Fear that would transform him terribly each month.

"There, my boy." The Transfiguration mistress cooed to him. Though he would always be her student in her eyes in some capacity, she now had to lean slightly backwards to accommodate Remus' height. When he took a deep breath to compose himself, she drew him back and looked up at him. His eyes were red and his expression tortured, but she could tell some part of him had been restored. "Good boy."

"Th-Thanks, Professor." Remus answered automatically, giving her a smile that brought rushing back the memory of the last time she had stood here at the edge of a stilled Whomping Willow in the man's 7th and final year at Hogwarts. Minerva's face softened and she patted him gently on the arm and nodded her approval, unwilling to speak as she was certain her emotionality would have tainted her voice. What Remus needed now was not an image of his former professor and now colleague crying — he needed a rock and the assurance that a safe place was awaiting his return.

"Albus and Hagrid will be waiting here for you when you return. Minerva and I will prepare the Hospital Wing for you." Poppy said, standing behind Minerva and next to Hagrid, who was in the process of setting up two lawn chairs using his umbrella-contained wand. The size difference between the two chairs struck Remus somehow, and he clung to the comfort the absurdity of their sizes afforded him for a brief moment.

"Right." He said, nodding sharply. He tried to put on a brave face, but he knew he was failing at it. Before he could break down once more, he turned on his heel and made for the dark hole at the base of the Whomping Willow.

_Some Gryffindor I am… Bravery and Chivalry, was it? Lying old hat._

Remus' robe had barely slipped into the darkness before the Whomping Willow came back to life with a roaring swing of its branches.

* * *

_What was it that Poppy said? That I'd said it felt like my bones were on fire?_

Remus' thoughts were disorganized, desperate and confused. He knelt on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, his small sleeping mat and canteen of water were laid out haphazardly in a corner. He had taken too long crossing the tunnel connecting the Shack to the Whomping Willow and he had barely made it to the second floor by the time the transformation started.

It was worse than the time Severus had made a mistake with the eleventh nettle. At least that time, he had still retained his mind. This time, however, it was clear he wouldn't be so lucky.

"M-my name is R-Remus Lupin." He whispered to himself as he felt his bones beginning to pop and morph. He gritted his teeth against a groan of pain and hastily struggled to take off his coat and shirt.

In a wild, uncontrolled movement, he hurled them at the canteen in the corner.

_Only good shirt… Good shirt._ Remus thought to himself, or admonished, perhaps? He could no longer be sure. It was already too late — his mind was losing itself to the dark, desperate and violent beast that took him over each month.

"Ggrrrrahhh…" Remus moaned, hunching over under the strain of his transformation. He hated this the most — hearing his voice as it changed, feeling the teeth growing in his mouth, seeing the changes in his hands and arms.

What made it all worse was that he held onto his mind as he changed. He could see, he could hear, he could _feel_ his hands shifting and the werewolf's claws digging into the wooden panels in the ground and the deep gashes it left. Then there was the crackling of his jaw, the inhuman growling — he felt it, but he couldn't believe it. It was like being trapped inside a box filling with water, but still living despite every part of your body knowing you should die.

_Torture. That's what it was. Torture._

And with that last thought, the mind of Remus Lupin was lost to the werewolf he became. With beastly howls and screams, the wolf tore through the Shack, raking its claws across walls, destroying boards and fixtures with easy swipes of its arm.

Soon, it became tired with random objects shattering under its claws and it turned its teeth and scratches and talons to itself, tearing at its own flesh — flesh soon to be returned to the form of Remus Lupin — in frustration and anger. Gashes across the shoulder, deep cuts where its claws could reach behind its back, bites on every limb it could reach. Anything to get out the anger and the savageness that overwhelmed it.

The Shrieking Shack howled more hauntingly than it had in fifteen years.

* * *

He could barely walk, the gashes and bites in his leg were so deep that it made it impossible to fully contract his muscles, and Remus had to lean heavily against the passage wall to make even the tiniest movement.

"Gaaah! Uagh!" The man cried out as he inadvertently leaned too hard against the wall and scraped a raw gash on his arm against the rough stone. Stars swam before Remus' eyes as he forced himself to stay upright. He took a deep breath and forced himself forward, his feet dragging on the ground.

He hadn't had the energy to do up his shirt, so Remus had taken back to the tunnel wearing nothing but his tattered pants, a now-ruined blood-stained shirt opened to reveal many scratches and scars across his chest, and the tattered remains of his jacket and outer robes. It saddened him greatly that the beast had rendered them useless — they were, indeed, his only good set of clothes left.

"Come… come on." Remus muttered to himself, willing himself forward. He gritted his teeth and willed himself to ignore the sharp pains cutting through the deep and dull ache that followed his transformations.

He had almost considered himself lucky when he regained consciousness already at the entrance to the passage on the Shrieking Shack side. Usually, he had enough control over himself to keep the beast from leaving the second floor, but it being the first time that year that he had fully transformed, he couldn't control the bloodlust. He was thankful, though, that the Unbreakable Charms placed on the exterior of the Shack hadn't deteriorated in the years of disuse the building had seen.

"Augh!" He cried out once more as his foot caught on a root in the floor, sending shooting pains up his leg. Unable to regain his balance, Remus flailed his arms out, trying desperately for purchase on the stone walls. His fingers were too weak and too slick with his own blood to catch and he slammed into the ground. "Nnngh!"

Once more, his vision threatened to go dark, but Remus fought it off. He got himself onto his hands and knees, and leaned against the wall as he pushed himself into a standing position.

_The exit, you're so close to it. Just… just get to it._ He thought to himself desperately. For a moment, he envisioned his friends waiting at the entrance to the tree. There would be Prongs, standing with his antlers framing the lights in the castle's towers, Padfoot lying in the grass with his tongue out, and even Wormtail near the mouth of the hole at the base of the Willow waiting to hit the knob.

It was enough to help Remus push himself up through the pain, and he staggered forward to the exit.

The light on the grounds was almost non-existent, the moon having set an hour previous and the sun not yet over the crest of the valley. Remus didn't hear the moans of the Willow, but even if he had, he couldn't have stopped himself stumbling through the hole and collapsing onto Hogwarts' grounds.

No sooner had he felt the cool snow that had fallen freshly during the night had two strong arms picked him up. He yelped feebly at the pain as pressure was applied to his wounds, but didn't move. He was too tired to move, except to let his head fall forward onto the chest of the man holding him. Remus expected to feel Hagrid's bushy beard and smell leather and pine sap; instead, he felt the thin silkiness of Albus' beard and smelled the strange scent of lavender, parchment and dust that was characteristic of the Headmaster.

"H-Headmaster…?" Remus managed, his voice raw from the screaming and howling of his werewolf form. _I-I'll get blood on him…_ He thought, fading in and out of consciousness. "I-I'll walk, s-sir… Getting... blood on you."

"Hush, now, my boy." Albus commanded, cutting his employee short as he made quick, long strides up the castle grounds and towards the entrance closest to the Hospital Wing. Hagrid walked ahead of him to ensure the path was clear — while there were hardly any students in the castle as Christmas break was still far from over, Albus wanted no chances — and soon they were at the doors to the wing.

"Poppy!" Albus called, voice clear and calm.

Immediately, the Mediwitch and the Transfiguration Mistress came rushing to the entranceway. Behind them, still as a log and undisturbed, Severus lay under blankets with the faint twinkle of a persistent monitoring spell hovering above him. There was a bed set up next to him with bandages and flasks of healing concoctions.

Poppy didn't need to say a word before Albus made for the bed next to his unconscious Potions' Master. Gingerly, he laid down his young hire and stepped back for Poppy to take over. In an instant, she and Minerva had removed Remus' outer cloak, jacket and shirt. The moment the last thread of Remus' shirt was off, the Mediwitch stopped in her tracks and Minerva silently placed a hand over her mouth.

Remus was covered in his own blood, but the gashes were deep enough to show through and the claw marks crisscrossing across his chest and sides were a dark and angry crimson. If it weren't for the slightly accelerated healing that his lycanthropy endowed him with, Poppy was certain Remus would have died long before he made it to the Hospital Wing.

Chest aside, there were smaller gashes across Remus' neck and face, and it was clear from the blood-stains and damage to his pant legs that the werewolf had turned to biting itself extensively as an outlet for its frustrations.

"Gah!" Poppy froze as her patient gasped in pain as she moved a little too quickly and ripped a scabbed-on part of his pants from his leg. Remus screwed his eyes shut and pressed his head back against the pillow under him. Blood glistened in his hair.

"I'm sorry, Remus, hold on." She pleaded with him. She needed to strip him down before she could fully assess him and give him the appropriate mix of potions. A Diagnostic Spell would only do so much.

"Ngh! P-Poppy, please! S-something for the pain…!" Remus begged, opening his eyes to watch her with desperation in his eyes. He was crying openly, unable to fight back the tears of pain and fear. "Ah!"

"You're safe, Remus, you're safe." Minerva moved to attend to her former student, distracting him from Poppy's removal of his tattered clothes. She cradled his head gently in her arms and stroked his forehead with a warm damp towel. It came back all too red for her liking. She continued to coo to him as he fought against the urge to trash in pain.

"Almost there, child." Poppy murmured to him and soon she had removed the last of his trousers. He breathed a sigh in relief, but did so too deeply and he seized up once more as pain ripped through his sides.

"Augh!" Remus forced his head deeper into the pillow, his face contorted in pain. When it subsided, it took everything he had not to cry out. "Poppy…! Please!"

"I know, I know." The Mediwitch said hastily, casting successive Diagnostic Spells around her patient, trying to pinpoint the extent of his injuries. They were severe and the silence Hagrid and Albus kept behind her only served to spur her sense of urgency — they were usually joking inappropriately at this point, but to hear them silent was not a good sign.

The moment the results came in, Poppy ordered Minerva to fetch marked vials from the potions cabinet and she lost no time in casting a Pain Reducing Charm over Remus. While it was a relief for him, it was clearly not enough and he still whimpered in pain every time he moved too much or breathed too deeply.

"Here." Minerva handed Poppy the vials breathlessly, and the Mediwitch immediately set to work.

"Minnie, take this." She handed back an unstoppered vial and gestured to the leg closer to the Transfiguration Professor. Poppy unstoppered her own vial and held it poised over Remus' leg on her side of the bed. "We're going to disinfect the wounds — Remus, darling, this is going to sting, but I need you not to move as much as you can."

"O-okay." Remus breathed, grabbing the sheets in his fists and turning to look away from his legs. The potion smelled different than anything he remembered — it must have been something new that Severus pulled out of that miracle book he had mentioned.

"Alright." Poppy said, and signaled for Minerva to begin. The second the solution hit Remus' skin, a loud hissing erupted from the wounds and he couldn't hold back a scream. Albus was at his side in an instant, holding down his legs with surprising strength as he involuntarily jerked away from the treatment. "Remus, please — I know it hurts, it'll be over soon!"

Poppy grimaced as she poured the rest of her vial out on the rest of Remus' leg. The man's whimpers and screams ate at her like the first time he had been dropped into one of her beds. She hastened to finish the disinfecting process.

The moment she was done, the Mediwitch flung her wand out and summoned two stacks of medicated bandages to the bed. She directed Minerva to follow her lead and began wrapping the fabric around Remus' wounds. Poppy nodded tightly hearing Remus' previously desperate panting subside into sighs of relief as the cooling effect of the balm on the bandages began to relieve the pain and accelerate his healing.

"Remus, dear, we're going to wrap your legs first, then your chest, neck and arms." Poppy explained, and she cut off the moan of dread she heard building in his throat. "I know, it hurts, if we don't do this, you may very well bleed to death. Besides, this balm is a new mix from Severus. He left it for me a few weeks back. It not only helps with pain and healing, but it reduces scarring dramatically."

Remus looked at her in curiosity, his pain temporarily forgotten.

"R-reduces scarring?" He asked, blinking his confusion. _What a wonderful effect! I can stay even a little more normal with that!_ He thought to himself. Poppy nodded to him before turning back to continue dressing his wounds and he relaxed into the bed, relishing the cooling sensation relieving the pain in his legs. He turned his head towards the man on the bed next to him. Severus was deathly still and pale as a sheet, but he could see his thin chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. _I'll have to thank hi—_

Then the smell hit him.

"P-Poppy, what _is_ that?!" Remus couldn't help but be distracted by the strong smell of feet and rotted cheese. He looked at her, his nose fighting against the stench.

"Yes, he said it had a peculiar smell — he's right, though I imagine it's worse for you than us." Poppy said curtly, her own nose wrinkled against the smell. She gave a short laugh and motioned for him to settle down. "At least we can hope it distracts you from the pain."

Remus huffed a gentle laugh — which he instantly regretted after a searing pain shot through his ribs — and settled back down.

As much as he hated the smell, he had to be thankful for it. Poppy was right — it was strong enough to distract him from the pain. He would have to thank Severus for it properly.

After what felt like hours, Minerva and Poppy stood back from the bed, disheveled and exhausted, and surveyed their work. Remus had fallen asleep halfway through wrapping his arms, and they had managed to finish wrapping up his hands without waking him. He was tucked under a light blanket with most of his body wrapped in bandages.

Poppy had cast a Smell Containment Charm on all the areas where the solution was still wet enough to give off a smell, so at the very least he didn't have to sleep surrounded by a horrible stench.

While the man had dark rings under his eyes and scratches along his face that couldn't be covered up, he looked so peaceful in sleep that the women had to be happy about their work.

"Firewhiskey?" Albus' voice gently interrupted their dazed thoughts and they turned to see him sitting in one of three armchairs with three tumblers of Firewhiskey on a conjured table in front of them. Hagrid must have gone to start his morning rounds without them noticing.

Gladly, the two witches rolled down their sleeves and collapsed into the chairs flanking their headmaster. They all clinked glasses and sat sipping their whiskeys watching two of their former students and now colleagues asleep in their hospital beds.

Minerva sighed and, with a wistful smile on her face, gestured to the two of them.

"When did we become so old?"


End file.
